


Welcome to Hell

by Kivea



Series: Stenny Week [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Gun Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Heist, I honestly have no idea how to tag this, I suppose, Implied Sexual Content, Light-Hearted, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, On the Run, Road Trips, Romance, Sexual Tension, Sheriff Cartman, criminals, runaways - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27099574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivea/pseuds/Kivea
Summary: Waking up after being dead was never easy. The light was too bright, and the air was too cold, and the sounds were too quiet. He would grimace, rubbing a hand over his eyes as his body took a moment to adjust to being alive again.He always woke up at home, wherever that was.
Relationships: Stan Marsh/Kenny McCormick
Series: Stenny Week [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977991
Comments: 7
Kudos: 25





	Welcome to Hell

Waking up after being dead was never easy. The light was too bright, and the air was too cold, and the sounds were too quiet. He would grimace, rubbing a hand over his eyes as his body took a moment to adjust to being alive again. 

He always woke up in his bed. Over his life, he’d learnt that his ‘bed’ was wherever he considered home. Home right now was in an old, modified van, the back decked out as a small bedroom and storage area, with boards covering the walls decorated with floral wallpaper that Kenny had nicked once they acquired their van. 

Give it a bit of colour, he’d suggested. Make it look like his parent’s house, his travel-mate had argued. 

That morning he rolled out of the makeshift bed, running a hand through his ratty blonde hair and looked out to the back doors that were open. He was looking out at a dusty mountain backdrop, sun beating down onto the sandy floor as smoke wafted across the front of the vista. He knew what it was; he could smell it. Breakfast. 

He pulled himself out the van, slipping on flipflops to protect himself from the ground. He peered round the door, leaning against it was he allowed his brain time to process the sight he was greeted with. 

There was Stan, his travel-mate, with his ‘kitchen’ set up as he worked on cooking them food. He had a portable gas cooker on a low table, two hobs that let him cook, and two camping chairs set up, one that he was sat on. There was a half empty bottle of beer already on the table, though judging from the location of the sun, it was probably only noon. 

As far as Stan was concerned, noon meant it wasn’t morning anymore, which meant he could drink. 

Eventually he was caught spying on his friend. Icy blue eyes looked up, smirk forming on the man’s face as he waved the tongs he was using to cook with. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” 

“Mornin’,” Kenny greeted with a croak. His first word was always difficult. “What we having?” 

“I was having bacon,” was the response. “But seeing as you’re back, I guess I can put more on.” 

“Good. I’m starving.” 

Stan began to rustle about, sorting out putting more food into the pan he was using as Kenny relaxed into the chair opposite the table, stretching out while he was sat down and allowing a smile to grace his face as he basked in the feeling of the sun on his face, and the smell of food being cooked. 

Eventually the smell of food was closer, and he opened his eyes to see a plate in front of him with a sandwich waiting for him. 

“How long was I out?” 

“Few days?” Stan shrugged. “Not that long. How was your favourite holiday destination?” 

“Toasty. I’m trying to convince Damien to upgrade me to a nice place overlookin’ the lava pits.” 

Stan snorted and rolled his eyes. “How’s that going for you?” 

“He’ll crack eventually. He _loves_ me. He just doesn’t know it yet.” 

He never knew if Stan believed what he would tell him about hell, but he knew that he believed that’s where he was. At first, it was difficult for him to process. The idea that the destination that Kenny would face after it all was hell, but… 

He didn’t know if his stories about his adventures there helped put Stan’s mind at ease, but he accepted it. 

“Nothing happened without me, did it?” 

Stan shook his head through a mouthful of bacon. “Don’t worry, dude. We’re peachy.” 

It was his biggest fear. That the cops would catch up to Stan when Kenny wasn’t there to take the bullet. 

When Kenny met Stan, they had been teenagers. A runaway kid with a dower attitude that Kenny had found behind a dumpster with a backpack, dressed in black with a red, blotchy face. He had spent a lot of time crying but by that point, he’d ran out of energy. His tears had dried up. 

Kenny had suggested they ditch town; just the two of them. So, they did. 

Their first robbery had been…messy. Stan had found a sudden sense of _moral righteousness_ halfway through that Kenny really didn’t need. He had told the dude that if he wanted a strait-laced ‘well to do’ job, he needed to march his ass back to wherever the hell home was. 

_ I don’t wanna leave you_, Stan had admitted. _Being with you…is the happiest I’ve ever been._

They kept going. 

It had been six years. Six years that they had dodged from town to town, and their reputation had grown. Six years where their ambitions and targets had grown. Life hadn’t been kind to them, and neither of them planned to spend an entire lifetime living in misery. 

Kenny stole the van, and Stan modified it. 

Kenny was the face, and Stan the getaway driver. 

Kenny took the bullet, and Stan got his ‘home’ somewhere safe for his return. 

Stan had expressed once that he felt bad he could never remember how Kenny’s deaths happened. That Kenny always had to put himself in the firing line. But if there was one thing Kenny had learnt about Stan, it was that no matter how selfish he could be on a surface level, his concern for the people close to him ran deep. 

It made him happy, knowing there was someone in the world who cared about him that much. 

“We should plan something big,” Kenny mused as they sat together in the sun. “Something we haven’t done before.” 

“You’ve been back like, four hours, and you’re already planning to get killed again?” 

“Not get killed. Not if you drive better.” 

“Hey! Don’t act like it’s my fault!” 

Kenny laughed, feeling euphoric in the moment. “You like adventure.” 

Stan gave a noncommittal hum. 

“It’s why you like me so much,” he purred, sitting up and leaning forward on the table to leer at his companion. “Maybe I’ve just got too much energy. Need to vent it out somehow.” 

Stan gave him the same look he always did when the blonde got flirty. He rolled his eyes with a lopsided smile on his face, looking down his nose at Kenny like it was all very childish, despite the pink that decorated the tips of his ears and the way his foot started to tap. 

He was a little like a dog with a wagging tail, sometimes. Hard to hide when he was excited about something. 

“Maybe you should, if it’ll stop you doing something reckless.” 

“Well, unless you plan on driving me to some town to find myself a nice girl...” 

“Being coy doesn’t suit you.” 

“You just like to hear me ask,” Kenny accused. “You just like to hear me say; hey Stan, take me into the back of the van and fuck me up, or let me fuck you, take my body’s freshly acquired virginity and-?” 

“Just because you’ve been dead doesn’t make you a virgin.” 

“It might. You’ll find out, if you’re not a coward.” 

San leant forward, opening his mouth to say something, but his eyes glanced to the hob at the same time and the flirtatious look on his face was replaced by panic. “Aw, shit!” 

Kenny couldn’t help but laugh as the dark-haired man attempted to salvage their burning breakfast. He still ate it. Charcoal-edges and all. Afterwards, Stan abandoned his pretence of being better than Kenny’s _carnal urges_ , practically dragging him into the back of the van and depositing him onto the double mattress they had, attractive smirk on his face as he shrugged off his jacket and started to undress, Kenny doing the same. 

Their friendship wasn’t the most ordinary, but their lives weren’t the most ordinary either, so Kenny felt like that was acceptable. They only had each other and neither of them was about to start rocking their perfect little setup by getting all _traditional_ about things. 

Their adventure was romantic enough without all the other shit. 

\--

Their heist setup was flawless, as far as Kenny was concerned. They parked the van in the city, somewhere inconspicuous and ordinary, before they started. They would find a car to use as their getaway, or sometimes even move on foot if it was a small job and start. The time between stealing a car and dumping it somewhere was a small window that they needed to act flawlessly in. 

Stan was a good driver. The first couple of cars they’d taken he’d crashed, but he drove fast and soon got the hang of it. Kenny was good at being the distraction for when things got a little too heated. 

He would throw himself into the line of fire, get them all confuzzled while Stan got away and he got killed on a job, to come back later. 

He didn’t always need to. Sometimes he would leave laughing behind his mask, flipping the bird to the guy chasing them. There was one particularly blood-thirsty Sherriff they’d ran into a few times that he took great joy in outsmarting. 

On this occasion, they got out scot-free, ditching the car and pocketing the stolen cash, taking narrow side streets back to their van. The journey would be spent in a stilted silence, tension high as they kept an eye out for any pursuers with excitement coursing through their veins. 

They piled into the van and Stan was speeding out the town faster than Kenny could get settled. 

Kenny gave a loud whoop of excitement as they cleared the town’s limits, hand patting furiously against the dashboard of their van. Stan’s face was still pulled into a strange, constipated look that promised he was still concentrating on getting them out of dodge. 

“What a ride!” Kenny shouted out. “Did you see the look on her face?” he cocked his voice into something higher pitched and mocking. “You won’t get away with this, ya damn kids!” 

Stan laughed at that, his shoulders finally rolling back and stretching out as he tossed the bandana he had been wearing onto Kenny’s lap. “What a bitch, man. I can’t even feel bad about it when she had such a stick up her ass.” 

“Exactly! That was good. I’m glad you convinced me to keep it low key.” 

“You gotta wait at least two months before we go big again,” Stan argued. “You know the rules. You _made_ the rules.” 

“Yeah, and you’re such a stickler for them.” 

Stan rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue. Because it was true. He was. 

“I’m fucking buzzing,” Kenny admitted, lolling his head to the side to admire the side-profile of his friend’s face. “I wanna drive out somewhere remote with no people and fuck under the stars.” 

That time the other man laughed much louder. “Jesus, dude, keep it in your pants for five seconds! Let’s focus on getting some distance between us and that place first.” 

“Then…?” 

A smirk lit up Stan’s face that sent an electric thrill through him. “Then you can think about what happens after.” 

They chose somewhere secluded, parking in a small, shaded area, one side of their van looking at tall ridges, the other side towards the open road where they had deviated from. 

It was a mistake. 

He danced across the sandy floor, arms spread wide with a bottle in his hand as he sang a song of victory. Stan rolled his eyes at the display and started to set up their low table and chairs as Kenny carried on. 

But he knew that Stan liked his singing, because he’d told him; one drunk night with a moment shared between them as Stan looked at him with watery eyes and told him _mom used to sing to me, when I was sad. You sing, and I feel safe. You have a beautiful voice._

Kenny started to sing more after that. 

“Stop being a workaholic,” Kenny scolded as he reached for his friend, taking another swig of his bottle and dragging Stan to join him, wrapping his free arm around the man’s shoulders. “Celebrate with me!” 

“You have way too much energy,” Stan muttered, though he did place his hands-on Kenny’s hips and began to sway to soundless music. “I ever told you that?” 

“Constantly.” 

“I remember when you were quiet.” 

Kenny grinned up, his tongue poking out between his teeth. “You love how adorable I am.” 

There was that classic Stan eyeroll, with classic Stan blush on his cheeks that always touched the tips of his ears. 

Their celebrations were called off early. 

A gunshot rang out through the air. 

They moved fast. Kenny crowded in front of Stan as they ran and slid behind the van, using it as cover from anymore gunshots. As soon as it fired Kenny’s head was filling with who it possibly could be. People like them, living a less honest life than most? Or someone worse, catching up with them? 

“Shit!” Stan ducked down behind the van with him, opening the driver’s door to retrieve the gun he hid under the seat. “What the fuck was that?!” 

“They snuck up on us,” Kenny muttered with a low growl. “Nice of them to fire a fucking warning shot."

“Must be someone looking for an easy target.” 

“Yeah, well, they’re about to fuckin’ regret it,” Kenny snarled out. “I’m gonna duck round, see if I can-?” 

Before he could finish the sentence, there was a loud, booming voice across the valley. 

_ “We’ve got you cornered now, ya crooks. This game of cat and mouse? It’s over.”  _

They exchanged a concerned look. Their van had never been tagged, never been noticed. Never been tied to them. It was their one place of peace. 

Kenny moved quickly to the back end of the van while Stan opened up the side door to hunt for a second firearm. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as annoyance seeped in on seeing a familiar face. 

There was that damn, blood-thirsty Sherriff; a round man who wore sunglasses with brown hair that had followed them for some time, determined more than any that Kenny had encountered. He didn’t care where they went, didn’t care about giving his responsibilities to his deputy while he went on a wild goose chase. He only cared about the fact that apparently, Kenny and Stan had made him look like a fool. 

Kenny didn’t think it was very hard. 

He stood at the driver’s door, hiding behind it for shelter, with his gun ready. Mirrored on the other side of the car was another person that Kenny recognised, though they had only encountered him once before. 

He didn’t know who the man worked for. He wore official suits, all tweed and well-groomed red curls. He had never spoken to them, despite the fury on his face. The only interaction that he’d had with Kenny was a bullet that skimmed his cheek. 

The blonde was under no illusion that it had been a warning shot. A very, very precise warning shot. 

He collapsed back against the van as Stan shut the door and handed him a shotgun. “It’s that fat Sherriff,” Kenny growled out. “Got some fancy lookin’ official with him again.” 

“He did say he was gonna get extra help,” Stan mused. “I guess that must be his extra help.” 

“It’s the one from last time, the crack-shot with the nice ass.” 

Stan snorted and rolled his eyes. “Fuckin’ – focus, would you?” 

“What’s the plan, here?” Kenny asked, looking up to his friend with a bit of desperation. “We’re fucked if they’ve tagged our van.” 

“It’s that fucking guy,” Stan growled out as he readied his gun. “That Sherriff isn’t an idiot, but he never managed to piece it together. Then this fucker is with him and second time he manages to figure it out?” 

Kenny attempted to peer round the edge again, seeing that the two hadn’t moved from their positions. 

“They’re gonna wait us out.” 

“I don’t think I’m getting out of this one, Ken.” 

Kenny spun round with wide fury in his eyes. “We always get out, because I always come back, so-?” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” 

He was caught in the intensity in the icy blues opposite him. His throat ran dry. 

“They’ve got our van now, so even if we got out by some miracle, they’d follow us. No way am I out driving them in this thing. But beyond that, where’s our escape route? They’ve got us pinned, dude.” 

“We shouldn’t have stopped here,” Kenny muttered low. “We should’ve – expected they’d figure out the van eventually.” 

“We’re both going down today,” Stan spoke slowly. Carefully. “And only one of us ever comes back.” 

“No,” Kenny shook his head furiously. “I won’t let you. I-?” 

“You don’t have a choice.” 

“I don’t want to come back if you’re not here!” he cried out. “If you’re not here, then this isn’t home!” 

“Kenny…” 

“I love you!” 

Stan’s jaw slackened, mouth parting with no words coming out. 

“I love you so much,” Kenny pleaded, scrambling forward to grasp at the sides of Stan’s face. “You can’t expect me to keep this up without you.” 

Stan didn’t return the words, but he didn’t have to. 

He didn’t have to because the kiss that he graced Kenny with said it all. The way he cradled the back of Kenny’s head, bringing their lips together for a kiss that may not have been as rough and wet as most of the other kisses they shared, but had a shiver running down Kenny’s spine as he scrambled for Stan’s collar, attempting to keep him close. 

Attempting to get across everything he felt in that one moment, in that one connection. He didn’t know if it worked, but the way that he felt from Stan, was... 

When Stan pulled back there was the gentlest smile on his face, eyes warmer than Kenny had ever seen them despite the watery edges. 

“You’re not going down alone, this time,” Stan promised as he leant their foreheads together. “You can introduce me to hell.” 

Kenny barked out a laugh. “All moody and dark. Right up your street.” 

Stan grinned back at him. “You ready to do this, partner?” 

“Ready as always!” 

They moved in tandem. They ran fast, Stan moving round the front while he vaulted himself up to the top to get a better view of the pair, before he pushed himself off with a war cry that ripped through his lungs. He aimed for the official man first, getting him to duck down and give them a chance to get closer to the car. 

Stan kicked up sand to give them some cover and Kenny followed suit – something to provide them a defence against the help that the Sherriff had brought with him. Kenny rushed forward and started to fire. 

They were fighting back recklessly. Shots going wide, hitting the car, no real thought process in mind. Only the knowledge that if it was their last stand, they might as well give it a good one. 

The sand screen began to fade, and his eyes met green emeralds. 

His death shot came from the other side of the car. It promised a less clean death. 

“Kenny!” 

He stumbled, a familiar feeling of blood beginning to gurgle in his mouth. He gripped at his stomach and grimaced through the pain as that damp wetness began to cover his lips. 

“Shit,” Stan was by his side in seconds, cradling him as he fell to the floor. “You okay?” 

Kenny shook his head but managed a rue smile. “That’s – that’s the slow-death shot.” 

“Together,” Stan promised. “We’re going down together.” 

He watched as the dark-haired man raised his gun and gave a wild shot in the direction of their hunters. 

A shot was fired in response. A perfect hit, right between the eyes. Crack shot. 

Stan fell to the ground next to him. Without someone holding him up he landed on his back, still drowning on his own blood and bile, eyes beginning to grow bleary with tears as he looked up to the sky. He was beginning to lose feeling in his legs; his legs that had been lying across Stan’s.

Two faces came into view, the fat Sherriff and the fancy redhead. The Sherriff grinned a leering grin as he leant down to speak to Kenny directly, though there was blood on his arm. The fancy redhead wiped at his cheek. 

When he pulled his hand back Kenny saw a mark across his cheek; one of them had grazed his face, just like he’d done to Kenny. 

“I told you that I’d catch you, you poor shitbag,” the Sherrif sneered out. “No one messes with Eric Theodor Cartman and gets away with it.” 

“Save your gloating,” the redhead scolded with a disapproving twist to his brow. “Get out the way.” 

“What? No, I want to-!” 

The redhead wasn’t listening. Instead he raised his gun till Kenny was staring down the barrel and pulled the trigger. 

\--

Waking up after being dead was never easy. The light was too bright, the air was too cold, and the sounds were too quiet. He’d learnt that he would wake up wherever he considered home, whether that was his childhood bedroom, or an old, modified van. 

His heart stuttered when he opened his eyes to look up into icy blue. 

“Stan?” 

“Welcome back to the land of the dead.” 

He always woke up where he considered home. Even if home was a person who resided in hell, with crystalline eyes and jet-black hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Stenny week!!! 
> 
> There's a lot more that this au could have in it, but I only came up with it after one song listening to a friend's playlist, and so I didn't really have the time to develop it more. (Thank you Em for always delivering solid playlists that get me through, this one's for you!)
> 
> I love it sm tho. I love them look at them I lOVe thEM So mucH


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